


Proposal

by orphan_account



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A number of emotions are waging war inside him. The only way he can think to resolve them is to ask something very stupid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I wrote ages ago but never published. Post S2, established relationship.

It’s dark when Hardy gets into bed. Ellie is on her side, dozing, and she stirs when he slides between the sheets. He places his hand on her waist, then leans down to give her a goodnight kiss.

His lips only barely brush her when there is a cry and a sudden movement. She starts up wildly and springs out of the bed, striking him as she escapes.

Hardy flicks the lamp on. He looks up to see Ellie with her back propped against the wall, staring at him in terror, her nostrils flared and her chest heaving.

‘What?' he asks.

‘I thought you were...’ she begins, and as she finds her grip on reality, the terror in her eyes subsides. She breathes in and flinches.

‘You’re wearing new deodorant.’

‘Yes,’ he replies, looking confused.

A moment’s silence reigns. Ellie’s chin wobbles.

‘It’s the same kind Joe used to wear,’ she says.

Hardy doesn’t say anything. He gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. She hears the shower turn on.

He emerges a little later, with all traces of the offending odour scrubbed away. Ellie is sitting on the bed, curled into a ball with her arms around her knees.

‘It’s on your clothes,’ she mumbles.

He changes into a fresh t-shirt and pyjama bottoms and throws the others into the washing basket. Then he stands at the foot of the bed.

‘Okay?’ he asks.

She slowly uncurls and walks over to him. After inspecting him, she sighs and takes his hand.

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ve already thrown out the bottle,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll make sure I don’t wear it again.’ He kisses her hair. ‘I’m sorry I scared you.’

‘You don’t need to apologise.’

Ellie gets back into bed. Little tremors go through her now and again, and her eyes are wet. Hardy hesitates on his side of the bed.

‘You can have the bed to yourself tonight, if you want,’ he offers.

She recoils. ‘No. God no, I want you with me.’

She pulls him into bed and snuggles into his broad chest. He idly strokes her hair and she murmurs to leave the light on; she wants to see him, needs to assure herself it's still him.

‘I had to check on the boys, while you were in the shower,’ she confesses.

He nuzzles her. ‘Both safe?’

‘Both safe. Fred’s asleep. Tom’s only pretending. I can see the light of his Nintendo DS under the covers.’

She picks at his shirt and buries her nose in his chest. ‘I feel so stupid.’

‘Don’t. It’s okay.’

I think I’m doing well, but then something small will set me off... and I think my husband – Joe – I’m convinced that I’m back in that life, with him. And the instinct to get out, to fight – it’s suffocating.’

‘It’ll get better,’ Hardy says uneasily.

‘I’m afraid it won’t.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘Do you have anything to offer besides shitty platitudes?’

He hums, and decides to give up on words. Holding her tightly, he kisses her brow. She burrows into him, as if she’s trying to disappear into his embrace. He rubs her back, and smooths her hair down.

After a few minutes, she stops shaking. She feels warm.

‘You smell like strawberries,’ she sighs.

‘I smell like you,’ he replies. ‘I used all the body wash in those bottles of yours.’

‘I hope “all” is just a figure of speech.’

He grimaces.

‘Wanker,’ Ellie mutters. ‘You’re replacing that.’

He smiles. He bends to kiss her, and she offers up her mouth to him, enjoying the scratch of his whiskers. She twines her arms around him, runs her hand up the nape of his neck and tangles her fingers in his hair. She starts to grind against him, and the kiss grows deeper.

‘Sure you want to?’ Hardy asks when Ellie slips her hand down his trousers.

‘Mm-hmm. Take my mind off it.’

He unbuttons her flannel pyjamas and she shrugs them off. He laves his tongue over her nipples and sucks her throat, making her squirm. Pausing to pull his t-shirt over his head, Hardy begins kissing his way down her body, but when he reaches her navel she shifts slightly, and when his beard scrapes against her inner thigh she makes a definite movement of discomfort. He looks up at her.

‘No?’ he asks, caressing her thigh.

‘Hm. Not tonight.'

He frowns. Ordinarily it’s a favourite for both of them, and after her shock he thought she’d enjoy it. Her forehead creases. Cupping his face between her hands, her thumbs lightly stroking the stubble, she draws him upward and kisses him.

‘Just... want you here,’ she explains. ‘Want you with me.’

She seems slightly embarrassed by her own request. He is reminded, painfully, of how raw and vulnerable she still is underneath her blustery exterior. Her emotions plumb depths he cannot fathom; she reminds him of a seashell, so small, and yet somehow capable of containing the infinite ocean within her, sometimes calm with love, sometimes heaving with anguish, sometimes boiling with hate and anger.

He touches his forehead to hers, a promise to stay close, and she smiles.

They make love slowly and gently. Hardy gathers her into his arms, cupping her face and stroking his thumb back and forth across her cheek. They exchange long, languorous kisses, Hardy's hips moving in and out at a delicious pace.

It is this kind of lovemaking Ellie both excels at and revels in. The unbearable trust and tenderness in her dark eyes hits his heart like a clapper resounding against a bell. He reverberates with the shock of it.

He cannot stop himself from saying, _‘I love you,’_ and she sighs, squirming under him and lifting her hips to improve the angle of his slow thrusts.

'Ah - _ahhh,'_  she moans, half-muffled by his kisses. ‘A-Alec -'

He's never quite prepared to hear that. He tries to say something about loving the way she says his name, that he never liked his name until he heard her sigh it like this, but he gets tongue-tied and all that comes out is a purring groan.

He threads his fingers through hers and she squeezes. Her other hand drifts lower to stroke her clit; he’s almost glad she’s taking care of that, since he’s enjoying touching the rest of her. Squeezing her breasts, he leaves scratchy kisses on her neck, and she arches up to him.

When she comes, it’s gently. She shivers all over, whimpers, then drops back against the mattress, panting, her mouth open and her eyes unfocused. Hardy moves a little faster now, and she squeezes his arse, lifting her hips in time with his thrusts. She clenches her muscles hard around him and he gasps. He buries himself deep inside her when he comes, and utters her name into her ear.

When his vision clears and he pulls away, he looks down to see Ellie with her eyes half-closed, a sweetly smiley look of contentment on her face, her pink lips still parted slightly to accommodate her heavy breaths.

They are both burning, but the night is cold and the sweat is cooling rapidly on their skin; Ellie shivers and a little wrinkle creases her brow. Before he can try to pull away, she catches him and digs her fingers into his arms.

‘Stay,’ she murmurs. Her hand goes to the nape of his neck and she coaxes him down. ‘Keep me warm.’

He lowers himself carefully. His knees were somewhat strained, and he tried to distribute his weight on her in a way that would take the pressure off them, while not crushing her in the process.

‘Blankets?’ he asks. They are bunched around their ankles; he reaches back and pulls them over. Ellie arranges them, then curls herself under him, tucking her arms close to her body until he canopies her entirely.

Knowing how much she trusts him – how safe she feels with him – is creating a pressure in his chest. His heart twangs and strains against his ribs in a way he’s not felt before. He stares at her; she is still smiling, her eyes closed, half-dozing beneath him, a rosy glow upon her cheeks. One of her hands runs up the nape of his neck and massages his scalp in lazy circles, causing him to tingle all over. She hums happily.

A number of emotions are waging war inside him. The only way he can think to resolve them is to ask something very stupid.

‘Ellie,’ he blurts, ‘will you marry me?’

It takes a moment for her to register what he said. Her eyes snap open and she shrinks back. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’ she demands.

He’s not entirely sure. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. He fishes for an explanation. ‘I just thought – you might prefer to regret having me as a husband than Joe.’

Ellie frowns, looking wary. ‘Why would I regret marrying you?’

‘Women generally do.’ 

‘One woman did.’

‘100% of the women who’ve married me.’

‘So far.’

He seizes on this slender thread of hope. ‘Is that a yes?’

She hesitates. ‘I don’t want a wedding,’ she cautions.

‘Good. Neither do I.’

‘I just want to sign the license and be done with it.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And I don’t want to tell everyone straight away.’

‘As long as I can still tell Daisy.’

‘Of course.’

He waits expectantly. ‘So?’

‘Well...’ three wrinkles crack her forehead, then smooth as she settles upon her answer, ‘yes.’

A broad smile spreads across Hardy’s face. ‘Yes?’ he clarifies.

‘Yes.’

He lets out a joyous laugh and starts raining kisses upon her. ‘Scratchy beard!’ Ellie squeals, trying to fend him off. She’s wracked by little, nervous giggles that float free like fizzy bubbles. When the initial shock wears off, they clasp one another closely, and begin to ponder the magnitude of the step.

‘Who should we get to be the witnesses?’ Hardy asks.

‘How about Maggie and Jocelyn? I’m sure they can keep a secret.’

Hardy’s bottom lip protrudes thoughtfully. ‘I do like Jocelyn,’ he admits. 

‘So that’s a yes?’

‘Yeah.’

Ellie runs her fingers over his hairy chest and finds the pacemaker scar above his collarbone.

‘How long have you been planning to ask me?’ she asks.

‘Didn’t plan it. All of a sudden I just... couldn’t stop thinking how nice it’d be to say “my wife” and mean you.’

Her brown eyes flick over him and she touches his lips. ‘My husband,’ she says softly.

He takes her hand in his own, inspects it for a moment, and kisses her ring finger. ‘Should I get you a ring?’

‘Mm. Don’t really want one,’ she replies, wrinkling her nose.

‘S’not very traditional.’

‘Is there anything about us that’s traditional?’

‘Guess not. Though I’m starting to wish I’d planned a proper proposal. Bought a ring, taken you up on the cliffs at sunset...’

She flinches.

‘No?’

‘It’s what Joe did.’ Her eyes are hooded. ‘We walked up to the highest point of the cliffs. Had a picnic. At sunset, he pulled out a big ring. I still remember showing that whopping fat diamond to everyone afterwards. I wore it constantly.’ She shook her head. ‘It ended up in the bin. A few days after he was arrested, I just threw it in the bin.’

Her expression becomes pained.

‘But he kept his ring. The day we threw him out of town, I saw it on his hand. I might not be his wife, but he still calls himself my husband and it... _kills_ me.’

He remains silent, and strokes her arm with unease.

‘Tell me honestly, Alec, do you think he’ll come back?’

He cannot lie to her, not even to spare her pain. He wets his lips and replies, ‘I think he will, once he has the means. His profile would suggest -’

‘I don’t need you to give me his _profile_ ,’ she snaps, turning her head aside. ‘He was my husband. I married him. I wore his fucking ring for thirteen years. I know he’s going to come back, someday.’

She slumps, looking sulky and miserable. Hardy nudges her. ‘But you’re divorced. He won’t be your husband when he does.’

‘No. You will be.’ The anger and melancholy lifts slowly, like mist from the ocean. ‘We should speak to Jocelyn about custody rights. If I die or go to prison, I want you to take custody of the boys.’

‘Not Lucy?’

She shakes her head. ‘Are you okay with that?’

‘You know I think of them as my own.’

‘If we’re married, it will make things much easier.’ She closes her eyes and nestles up to him. ‘I wonder if we could have you legally recognised as their father. At least their guardian.’

‘It will be hard while Joe’s living, without his consent,’ Hardy cautions.

She ponders this. ‘Maybe marriage isn’t such a good idea,’ she squirms. ‘All this legal stuff... it doesn’t feel fair to burden you like this.’

‘Burden?’ he says incredulously. ‘Ellie, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a father and a husband.’

‘But that shouldn’t come at the price of dealing with a fucking murderer.’

‘Ellie, if anyone’s getting short-changed in this deal it’s you. You’ve given me everything, and I couldn’t even imprison the man who hurt you.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘But it’s true.’

_‘Don’t.’_

He touches his forehead to hers, a penitent look drifting over his features. ‘M’sorry. I just wish I had something to give you. Anything.’

She cannot seem to understand the sentiment. ‘I don’t want anything else,’ she insists. ‘I just want you.’ She draws him down until his head is cradled on her bosom, kisses his hair, and closes her eyes. As he settles into this position, the words sink in. 

Difficult as it is for him to believe, he is enough. Bent and broken and damaged, with nothing to offer except a heart that didn’t quite work properly, he is still enough for her.

He exhales slowly. Joe would come back one day. It is a terrible certainty that both of them acknowledge. But as she runs her fingers through his hair, he begins to believe that the two of them have a chance of beating him. Together. They were stronger together, after all - better together, somehow managing to make something perfect and whole out of their two imperfect halves, something that was greater than the sum of its parts.

When Joe did come back, he and Ellie would be indelibly, inseparably joined, and he did not believe anything on earth could separate them.

‘Just want you,’ she sighs again, and even though her eyes are closed, she knows Alec is smiling.


End file.
